


Snow Angel, snow angel, will you be mine?

by Always_Dreaming



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: Marc makes Christmas arrangements. A really short story, maybe a drabble.Apologies to Lady Marquez93, I loved the thought of Marc/Luca so much I had to write about them.





	

It was the soppy song on the radio that did it for Marc, who was feeling a bit flat after the excitement of the racing season.

_Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mi-ine?_  
_My darling dear, I love you all the ti-ime_  
_I’m such a fool, a fool in love with you-ou-ou_

 

He found his phone and scrolled to the person he wanted to call.

“Hello Grandma,” said a familiar voice after a few rings. “I can’t talk for long, I’m in a meeting.”

“Oh, is Vale there spying on you?”

“Yes. An important meeting.”

“Is he right next to you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, I was just wondering—er—” _Don’t wimp out now Marc!_ “I was just wondering…if you wanted to meet up at Christmas, if you can get away from your family and I can get away from mine?”

“Yes, please.”

“We could go riding somewhere or walking or just stay at home, or…” _You’re babbling Marc! Shut it._

“Yes, that sounds great. I’ll bring that Pandoro cake you like.”

“I love those! But I’d rather have _you…_ ”

“I can arrange both.”

“You, me and Pandoro cake. Mm…what a threesome. I’ll eat the cake and love you. Every night. Twice a night. Three times—”

“Yes, that sounds very nice, Grandma. I can’t wait,” Luca interrupted. His voice had a laugh in it.

Marc made kissy noises until Luca said, “Bye Grandma, see you soon.”

 

Excited about the arrangement but disappointed the call had ended, Marc scrolled to a selfie he’d taken of Luca and himself when they’d had a minute alone together at the Valencia track. Luca was so, so beautiful—he was the blondest man Marc had ever seen, the opposite to his own dark, swarthy looks. Like the plastic film negative of an old photograph—Marc was the dark version, Luca the light version.

Luca was like an angel. A snow angel.


End file.
